“If He is,” said Hubert, “then He is great!  He is infinite.  I cannot measure His power in any line.  Surely He can reveal Himself to me if He will.  Is He willing?”

In the contemplation of God the man grew less and less in his own esteem.  Would God reveal Himself to such an atom in the wide universe as he?  Did He care for him or about him?

“God is Love,” whispered memory, from the Book, and the suggestion beat upon the unarmored heart of the seeker, and was not unwelcome.

“I will put it to the test,” he said to himself.  “I will ask Him.”

He rose from his chair and thought to fall upon his knees, but was resisted.  An unlooked for struggle arose within him.

He had said to Frothingham that he was not proud of his scepticism, but now his independent thought arose before him, an image not willing to be crucified.  He saw the sneers of his fellow unbelievers, should he join the ranks of the religious.  Suppose God should reveal Himself?  Would he not be bound to serve Him?  A vision of the Man who called Himself the Son of God arose dim and wraith-like, sorrowful, homeless, poor—­crucified!  If God revealed Himself, perhaps he must follow that Man!  Was it worth it?  Was it not better to go on as he was, rich, independent, self-governed?  If he asked for light, was he ready to follow the light?

His hands clenched themselves in the struggle.  The vision of self-abnegation was so real that it sickened him.  Home, possessions, friendships, and his own life also, seemed demanded by the vision of that Man.  But to turn back from the light that might be gained was to fall into a darkness more damnable and more desolate than before.

“Buy the truth and sell it not,” urged a voice, and some glimmer of encouragement seemed in his imagination to smile from the face of the Man of Sorrows.  In his decision the sweat broke from his brow and the veins stood in cords of agony.  He fell upon his knees, and said aloud: 

“O God, if Thou art, reveal Thyself to me, and I will serve Thee.”

The solitary gas jet still flickered in the room, the moonlight shone without, the silent household slept.  No voice answered the young man’s prayer, nor sensible Presence wrapped him about; but a crisis was marked in one life that night and the result was to be light and peace.

Hubert had not imagined what sort of a response should be made to his request, and it was well he had not.  But he felt a sense of relief at a decision gained after he had uttered his prayer to God, and soon retired to his bed.  It was not to enjoy much sleep, however, for still the vision of the Man of Calvary haunted him, and with it a sense that it was in His footsteps he must tread, if the truth should really be revealed to him.  In the slow hours of the night he counted the cost of the tower he should build, and wondered if he would be able to finish it.  To him it was granted at the outset of the way to know something of the rugged terms of true discipleship.